


Maelstrom

by rowan_one



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Canon Compliant, Derealization, Gen, Guns, Hallucinations, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Panic, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowan_one/pseuds/rowan_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside the Portal or out he can't decide he doesn't think he'll ever know for sure anymore. What's chasing him? Where is he going? Where was the void he had been trapped in? Was he ever there? Was he always running? He needed a way out and the only memory pulsing through him was "Stanley! Stanley! Help me! Stanley! Stanley! Do something! Stanl--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer! I am in no way trying to imply that mental health issues make one inherently dangerous to any degree, nor that someone in such a position would follow the same actions as what transpires in this work of fiction. We are reviewing the mental state of someone tormented by a dream demon to the point of Sanity Slippage and then traumatized by unknown horrors.

Running. He was running. His legs hurt. His lungs hurt. Felt like they were about to give out under him and send him skidding to the floor, felt like they were just about to burst, felt like he was burning inside out bottom top, all the way from the sharp stabs in the soles of his feet to the feeling of blood pooling in his mouth–his EYES.

It hurt everything hurt and he was running when would he stop running how long had he been running. 

It was icy cold pressing against his skin, despite the burn from within. It was a darkness that enveloped him despite the brightness that shined out his eyes. 

Where was he running to how long had he been running what was he running from where was he running to what was he running from how long had he been running where was he running to how long until he stopped running what was he running fromwherewasherunningto oh when would the pain stop when would the cold stop 

When would he be warm again when would he be whole again how long would he feel like something stabbing him from in inside when would he be home again 

Home. he wanted to go home. where was home. 

Stanley. He needed to see Stanley. Who was Stanley? 

Where was he running to when would he stop running how could he struggle against the cold darkness which threatened to snuff out his light.

Stanley he hated Stanley he wanted to see Stanley– Who was Stanley?

Fire eating at his lungs fire eating at his limbs fire gobbling him up from the inside out– and since when was fire such a brilliant blue?

Blue fire was bad why was blue fire bad it brought flashes of glowing yellow with hints of gold–gold make sure to buy gold–and bits of black.

Sixer sixer siiixxer sixersixersixersixer

Who was calling his name, was that his name? Different voices melding and his HANDS why his hands he couldn’t feel his hands they didn’t burn like the rest of him.

Were his eyes closed? Prying them open outright BURNED hotter and brighter than everything else before– where were his hands his feet his limbs why had his entire body floated away?

Were his hands on his face? Why were his hands important why did he need to open his eyes so badly why did he need to see his hands

SixersixersixersixerSIXER that had to be his name the voices were growing louder and out of sync with each other as they called for him.

Pain throbbed along with the fire behind his eyelids fingers– how many?– pressing tightly against them–10 8 12 10 12 8 12 10 what was the right number

He begged for the pain to halt as bet he could without finding his mouth past the burbling blood 

When would the pain stop when could he go home where was home was he running there was he running anymore the spikes of pain changed and it’s so hard to focus on feeling anything else

What was he running from where was he running to clawCLAWS sharp and slashing through him digging in and ripping out oh it was so hard to scream without his mouth and he was no longer sure if this was preferable to the cold.

Pain pain all he could feel was the pain and pain is hilarious! Nonono that wasn’t right–

He gasped for air, breathing out fire, and collapsed hard on his knees– did he have a physical form anymore? The sting shot up his legs and he tried to pry his eyes open and focus on the floor beneath him.

He couldn’t move, not with the E Y E he felt burning a whole in his back, not with the burning red and black eyes opening all around him, their hot glares pinning him in place as the pain shot through him again and again–

**_HEY SIXER_ **

The voice felt as physical as the burning pain and he finally found his mouth and he felt glass shards on his tongue but he still opened it just wide enough to SCREAM gushing the air through his lungs as much as he could manage even as he felt strong arms around him pinning him trapping him tying him down he couldnt move again couldnt run anymore even though he had to get home where was his home he was so sure he had to run home

“STANLEY I HAVE TO FIND STANLEY WHERE IS HE?!”

His own voice was a shriek of terror and broken sobs to match the broken glass he had to spit as he tried to talk, and he felt something be wrenched out of his clenched grip roughly prying ever finger onetwothreefourfiveSIX

things were clattering down around him broken pieces of himself and shards of the voidless world raining down he wanted to run wanted to hide wanted to protect stanley WHO WAS STANLEY AND WHERE WAS HE

He thrashed in whatever was trying to encircle him, panic seizing his breath as his proprioception rushed back to him. His hearing tuned in to the screams ripping from his throat and his eyes finally flew open against the heavy darkness once his arm connected roughly with something.

“OW! Poindexter what th’ hell is wrong with you?!”

A heavy, warm weight was on top of him and his arms were restrained but stronger ones above him, he wheezed and tried to flail once more but the adrenaline was retreating and everything was too difficult as reality came into focus and he saw someone’s face hovering over him.

He blinked hard and saw yellow eyes with slits glaring down, and immediately tried to thrash once more despite his fatigued body protesting.

“Poin–Poindexter– seriously, knock that off, UGH!” Stan protested as his brother weakly flailed despite being pinned under his bulk. “What kind of whackjob experiments are you running down here that cause you t’ scream so loudly all of upstairs can hear you?! You’re lucky I could spin it as the Shack being haunted, and tell an origin story about the first name being ‘Murder Hut’!”

A heavy, warm weight was on top of him and his arms were restrained but stronger ones above him, he wheezed and tried to flail once more but the adrenaline was retreating and everything was too difficult as reality came into focus and he saw someone’s face hovering over him.

He blinked hard and saw yellow eyes with slits glaring down, and immediately tried to thrash once more despite his fatigued body protesting.

“D-don….don’t call me….”

“Poindexter? What– does it hurt your genius ego?”

“Get off me……Stanley. I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine he was tired and frightened and he didn’t trust this person wearing the face of his brother (his brother, right?)

“Sixer I will _smack_  some sense into you if I need to, or maybe just pay you back for that ungrateful punch when I SAVED you from your stupid, dangerous portal!” Pressing his left arm down on Ford’s throat to keep him still and raising his other arm, fist clenched and grin wide as he readied himself for a little payback.

Only to stop when his brother flinched visibly, pausing and scrunching up his face a bit in thought. Scoffing, Stanley hauled himself off the other and the floor with a groan and a crack of his back.

He could still feel his breath raggedly rushing in and out of his chest as he felt the heavy weight leave him– it was constricting it was suffocating it was warm it was comforting he wanted to be free he wanted the weight back.

He eyed “Stanley” warily as he heard faint voices whispering. His hands twitched for a weapon, he needed a weapon

“Wh-Who are you….What do you want with me?”

“Very funny, Poindexter.” Something flickered in the other’s eyes–

He scrambled to his feet and grabbed a gun from the nearby table, nearly falling over himself.

Have to get out of here have to protect himself so he can go home– home where was home, home was with Stanely WHO WAS STANLEY he had to run and find Stanley.

“Hey hey HEY–” Stanley tried to grab his brother and subdue him but he stopped dead in his tracks when Ford had a trembling hand attempting to level a gun at him.

**Author's Note:**

> This work has fanart dedicated to it! Or, this work was inspired by art? More of a trade. [See the art here!](http://imaginebees.tumblr.com/post/132801407714/huevember-day-8-ive-been-keeping-an-eye-on-you)


End file.
